


Two Nights

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [12]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Nights, Two Horses, Two Canon-AUs or rather "That one with Nasir and the horse." The first part has spoilers for <i>War of the Damned</i> through episode six. The second is part of the <i>Long Way Home</i> 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuzz/gifts), [Steorie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steorie/gifts), [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> Look, the gif of Nasir and the horse made me yell "NOX" so it had to be written. Luckily I have people who encourage this madness.

Nasir and Lugo kept their eyes trained to the distinct outline of Sinuessa en Valle on the horizon. Gannicus and Donar had yet to return; each passing hour brought concern at their absence. Nasir and Lugo had volunteered for this post, to watch out for their brothers, but the cold and the uncertainty were starting to take their toll.

Nasir’s hands were beginning to go numb, yet he would not loosen the grip on his spear. He shifted uncomfortably as another cool breeze flew down the mountain pass. Lugo wore even less than Nasir did; he could not understand how Lugo seemed unbothered by the chill.

Lugo laughed when he caught sight of Nasir’s gaze. “You must learn to live with the cold, brother. This is nothing compared to winter’s hold east of the Rhine. You will see.”

“Will I?” Nasir asked. “The path seems mostly lost to me now,” he murmured before he could stop the words. It wasn’t a fair, or even right, thing to say with Lugo present. Lugo should not feel caught between another couple’s arguments and yet Nasir couldn’t stop himself.

Nasir did not like the bitter taste so present in his mouth these days. It wasn’t merely arguments with Agron that soured Nasir’s mood most mornings. The world was becoming increasingly more unfamiliar; he was beginning to see strangers staring out of the eyes of beloved faces. Nasir was doing all he could to stay afloat of the wave full of shit surely to crest over them all. It was easier to focus on one problem rather than the many; much how Agron had treated Nasir as the source of all his frustration, Nasir was reciprocating in turn. Nasir _acknowledged_ that was his problem though; Agron still saw demons where he should find allies.

And it was not so easy to forget words so harshly spoken. Agron could command him when it was a general to a solider; not one heart to another. He never anticipated such words falling from Agron’s tongue, directed towards _Nasir_ of all people. Part of him still had not recovered from such a shock; when he was allowed to dwell his heart rate jumped in fear, rather than desire. It was not fear of Agron, but rather the thought of life spent torn apart by bitterness. It found him wishing for days of a simpler past. 

“If that stupid child refuses to pull his head from his ass, you will come to my clan,” Lugo said. “They will love you. I am sure we can find you a nice Chieftain’s son among the single men.”

Nasir could not tell if his friend spoke in truth or jest, but he patted Lugo’s shoulder in gratitude all the same. “Even if he does not, I will still love him. Such is the burden that comes with the gift.”

“My mother always called it a blessing and a curse,” Lugo agreed.

“Seeing how such a union birthed you, I cannot blame her,” Nasir teased. He laughed and ducked the handful of snow Lugo threw. His attention was quickly drawn to movement on the horizon.

“Stand ready,” Nasir barked out. There were a few rebels hidden in snowbank behind them, all man and women more loyal to Spartacus than Crixus. It pained Nasir to make such a distinction of the forces he trained right alongside Naevia, but he would not risk the lives of everyone in the camp when they stood as the first line of defense. Nasir needed those around him who would follow Spartacus’ commands delivered via Nasir without question. He was pleased to see all, including Lugo, immediately take proper form.

“Identify yourself,” Nasir called. He first said it in Latin, then German, followed by Greek. The three tongues were the most common ones spoken among their numbers.

“Lower fucking voice, my head pounds,” Gannicus’ voice answered on the wind. 

Nasir motioned for one of the flanks to advance with him. They moved forward to the sound of feet crunching in the snow and the neighing of at least two horses. He was not surprised to find Gannicus bloodied and leaning heavily on a horse. He was surprised to see the young girl, Sibyl, with him. 

“Somehow you live,” Nasir said. 

“The gods do not see fit to yet grant me death,” Gannicus answered. He sounded wearied and it was not a tone Nasir often associated with him. “Does the camp lie far? We have wounded among us.”

Nasir looked upon the small column that followed Gannicus. They must’ve been straggles from the camp or those that had hidden when it was time to flee from the Romans. 

Donar did not stand among them. Nasir had to ignore the fear that clogged his throat.

“Donar?” he questioned. 

Gannicus shook his head. Nasir exchanged a look with Lugo who already had his head bowed; German prayers fell from his tongue. Nasir felt his own lips tremble at the loss. 

“How?” he questioned.

“Swords to the side are a bit of a tradition among our group,” Gannicus said. “I would’ve recovered his body if there was time.”

Nasir had to steady himself by holding onto Gannicus’ leg. “Do not tell Agron the specifics of how Donar died,” he begged. Nasir could barely handle the knowledge; it would _destroy_ Agron.

Gannicus nodded. “I trust your words in this; I trust your skill even more with the horse behind us. It carries quite the burden. A steady hand must guide it.”

“It will be done,” Nasir promised. He patted Gannicus’ leg again and moved past the others until he found the second horse. The creature held steady as Nasir stroked its neck in proper greeting. It turned its head and met Nasir’s gaze. Nasir took it as permission to lean into the horse’s snout. He laughed low when it quickly flared its nostrils at him and took in his scent. Nasir respectfully stood back and waited for the horse to come to him. It soon complied and Nasir was careful not to tug on his reins as he finally looked to its rider.

Laeta; the Roman woman he has personally seen through the city walls. Her face was covered in heavy make-up, though it was streaked with tears and sweat. Her dress was a rich, colorful fabric only worn by the kind of wealthy woman Nasir had once seen in the company of his dominus. There was blood seeping from her side and an angry red brand in an _H_ on her arm. The woman looked as if she’d been through the darkest levels of the Underworld. 

“Laeta?” he whispered.

She opened her eyes for a moment; just enough to show response, before turning her face back to the saddle’s pommel. 

“Will you walk steady with me, friend?” he asked the horse as he stroked its hair with his free hand. The horse leaned into his touch and Nasir took it as the permission he required. 

********************

Time always seemed to be running out on Nasir. As Lugo carried Laeta towards the healing tent, Nasir was already wishing the party had reached them earlier. Each moment that passed was another bit of life seeping out of Laeta’s wound. He hurried through the camp as he made supply lists in his head, only slightly amused to find the horse followed him.

“Nasir, I would have words,” Agron requested as he stepped in his path.

“Speak quickly then,” Nasir said. He ducked into his tent and fumbled through the various baskets in a hurry to find what he required. “Laeta does not have much time, and therefore I have even less.”

“You have much concern for a Roman bitch,” Agron said.

Nasir glared up at him. “I do not wish to see yet another person die because I could not act quickly enough. Mira is still a shade that haunts my every step.” 

“Why do you care such for a stranger?” Agron asked.

“If you wanted a man with a stone for a heart, you should’ve set your eyes elsewhere,” Nasir growled as he shoved past Agron. 

“That is not what I meant,” Agron said. His hand faltered as it went to touch Nasir’s arm, before dropping back to his side.

A small action that spoke more than Agron wished to reveal. Nasir was almost fascinated by the way his fingers trembled. “Hold these,” Nasir said as he shoved the supplies into Agron’s chest. “We will speak later; now you will either assist me or leave me be.”

“I will assist,” Agron said.

Nasir had hoped Agron would choose the other option. Of all the wounds he had seen and caused, it was only abdomen wounds that caused Agron to hesitate. 

“The horse follows,” Agron observed. 

“It has nowhere else to go, I suppose,” Nasir said. He would worry about the horse and its care later. Inside the healer’s tent there were many recovering from wounds, fever, and now the dangers of the cold. 

Lugo already had a large bowl of water set out for Nasir. “Gratitude,” Nasir said as he passed him. They’d done this often together; it was nice to have the familiarity of one he worked beside as he cut off Laeta’s dress.

She made noise of distress when Nasir’s fingers rested on her bare flesh.

“Shhh,” Nasir said, pressing a comforting hand to her forehead. “I must see to wound.” 

Laeta’s eyes were watery and unfocused as they met his own. There was a flash of recognition before it faded again.

“Prepare something for her to bite down on if she wakes again,” Nasir ordered. Lugo moved off to the side to find a piece of wood or leather. Agron remained silent as he stood beside Nasir and held the surgery kit and jars of herbs and oils Nasir would need. 

“I need you to find me wine,” Nasir said.

“Now?” Agron asked. 

Nasir nodded. “Not to drink. Any swill will do. Command it to be handed over if you must. My need now is greater than another’s thirst.”

Agron carefully placed his kit on the cot beside Laeta before a strong hand gripped Nasir’s shoulder in familiar touch. Nasir had to close his eyes as his body leapt with remembrance of those hands on his skin. Before Agron, Nasir was rarely so touched by another with any purpose. The absence of it, the one thing that had always been between them, had _hurt_. 

Touch would not be the way to close the current yawning gap between them, but this was a sign of hope. 

“Please don’t hesitate,” Nasir said. 

“I will return quickly,” Agron promised. 

All other sounds and smells faded as Nasir concentrated on Laeta’s wound. He washed off the dried blood and supped up that which still flowed out. It was not a clear cut, with wide gaping ends of torn flesh. Nasir knew it came from a spear head. He’d caused enough of such wounds to know it had been thrust up from below. She was lucky it had not stabbed too high and pierced her heart. 

The wine appeared and Nasir quickly poured it into the wound. Laeta came awake and would’ve fought Nasir off if Lugo had not already had her shoulders down. Her pained and terrified screams still rent the air. 

Months ago Nasir would’ve flinched and fumbled at such a reaction. He’d learned the hard way that inside this tent, as he played this role, he had to ignore it and continue on. Even now he could not pause to offer comfort. He left that to Lugo, who began to sing a lullaby in his own tongue. Laeta couldn’t have known the words, but something in the sound was enough to see her relax. Nasir took the time to begin to sew up her wound. It felt like hours as he worked. Loving hands mopped the sweat from his brow and rubbed his back when Nasir’s body started to ache from holding such an uncomfortable position. 

“Now we must see to the brand,” Nasir said as he covered the wound with what cloth they could find. 

“There must be another to do such a thing,” Agron said. “Have you not done enough?”

Lugo laughed at Agron’s words. It was a testament to how different their lives were when it came to running the camp. Nasir was the _lead_ among the healers now. So many others had died either from fevers or wounds that he stood among the most experienced. 

“Spartacus asked me to see to her care. I would not hand it off to another,” Nasir said. The brand was still red and raw. New then, not even a day old.

“I know a thing about caring for brands,” Agron said. “Let me do this.”

Nasir’s eyes strayed to the _B_ in Agron’s flesh and knew this was Agron’s own way of making amends. 

“Just do not put hand to her throat again,” Nasir warned. He stood and stretched the sore muscles of his back. “Seek me when you are done, if you can.”

A fortnight ago he would’ve leaned in for an automatic kiss, as natural as breathing, but now the air thrummed with regret as much as it did with all other emotions. 

 

*******************

Nasir guided the horse through the camp towards the area they’d set up as a stable. He was not surprised to find Spartacus waiting for news. 

“How fares Laeta?” Spartacus asked as they walked. 

Nasir wished he could give words of better hope, but there were none. “As well as can be expected. Her wound went long without being treated and was exposed to the elements. I did what I could. The rest lies in the gods’ hands.”

Spartacus’ eyes dropped to Nasir’s side. “Worse wounds have been suffered and survived.”

There was praise there, and it warmed Nasir to feel it. “Through the quick actions of those around me.” He shook his head. “I would caution use of fire to heat a tool or weapon around Laeta again. That wound will take much longer to heal than new skin over an open brand. The body may heal itself quickly; the wounds below flesh are those which require concern.”

Spartacus did not disagree with him, though he did not seek more detail. “The horse fares well?” he asked.

“As far as my skill can see. I still need to attend this one.” 

“You know as much as any of us,” Spartacus said. His eyes flicked to something over Nasir’s shoulder. “Perhaps you will learn more.”

“Fucking shit,” Nasir yelled as his hair was tugged harshly. He felt part of it rip and turned to find the horse behind him; Nasir’s black hair tie firmly held in his teeth.

“There are those who say the horse chooses its companion,” Spartacus said with laughter clear in his voice. He reached over Nasir and rubbed the horse’s neck. “It appears this one has picked you.” 

“I would not know what to do with him,” Nasir said.

“Her,” Spartacus corrected. “I think you must learn.”

A mare in the presence of a Thracian. It was enough to make Nasir laugh. “I am no Hercules, but perhaps we can find some Roman flesh to feed her.”

Spartacus' lips quirked at the jest for a moment; he quickly gave into the impulse and laughed. “Do not mock my people’s horse traditions,” he admonished. 

“When your traditions are based on man-eating horses? How does that not deserve a jest?”

“I will find some Syrian myth to tease you about,” he warned.

It was a gift to see Spartacus smile in joy; an action long absent from his life. 

“You might seek better luck with one of Agron’s myths. I know them better than my own,” Nasir admitted. 

Spartacus nodded. “A Syrian slave who speaks Latin like a Roman and knows the myths from east of the Rhine; what your minds must be like upon each dawn.”

“It is a mad place,” Nasir agreed. “Luckily I am surrounded by similar men and women.” 

Spartacus patted his shoulder. “Take care of the horse. I would have true report from Gannicus. I fear he withholds something.” His eyes traveled over the various rebels assembled about. “We are missing some faces and have gained others.”

“Before you hear others’ words, Castus saved both mine and Lugo’s lives from the Romans. I cannot say if he knew of Heracleo’s betrayal or not, but I think actions ultimately taken should be considered for final judgment.”

Spartacus nodded. “The Cilicians could’ve killed us on the first trip to Sicily and did not. As far as I’ve been able to discern, that was the last I saw Castus in Heracleo’s company. I trust few in any matters, but I will take your words into account.”

Nasir’s eyes drifted to where Castus sat by the fire with hands still bound. It was the very least he could do for the man who had stopped a Roman sword from stabbing him in the back.

*********************

Nasir did not need to ask who lingered at the entrance of the tent. He would know that smell and breathing pattern in any world. He turned to meet Agron’s eyes and the wall of uncomfortable silence that now stood between them. He was unused to air being so cold around them; it felt a lifetime ago when words fumbled and faded out due to confusion and uncertainty. Few words had passed between them; circumstances had not allowed much opportunity. Those they did speak were far from kind. Now was the time for true words. There were no emergencies to distract them or others around, save the horse. Even the slight familiarity from earlier in the day seemed to have slipped from grasp with the coming of the night, with such a dark look on Agron’s face.

“Spartacus said you spoke on Castus’ behalf.”

Nasir was starting to understand how war consumed all. Regret ate at him, but not as much as frustration. In the end the ire won out, and harsh words slipped from his tongue. 

“I would speak up for any man who saved my life. Do you _command_ me to not honor such an action? Do you now seek to forbid me from speaking to the horse as well?” Nasir asked.

Agron lowered his eyes. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Nasir scoffed. “You suppose?”

“I did deserve it,” Agron amended. He carefully walked around the horse like one would a wounded animal. “Does he have a name yet?”

“She,” Nasir corrected. “I was thinking Nox.”

Agron’s brow furrowed. “She is more brown than black.”

“I do not pick the name for her coat’s color,” Nasir said. “The night has always represented the time of my freedom. The darkest of night was my own time, unless I was called upon. She escaped from the Romans thanks to the actions of rebels. I see my own story in that, I suppose.”

“I did not know you favored the beasts,” Agron said.

It was an attempt for pleasant conversation. Still a distraction, yes, but it felt good to speak without worrying over each little world. Nasir turned back to Nox’s coat as he remembered the past. 

“They fascinated me when I was a boy. We had to sleep in the stables more than once, when it was too cool a night and we hadn’t made enough coin that day for a room. They look different, the ones in Syria, but I’ve always found them beautiful no matter the place.”

“You were but a boy when you came to Rome. How could you have made coin before then?”

Nasir shook his head in amusement. Agron truly came from the wilds; the rustic villa was the closest Nasir ever came to such small settlements before the rebel life. 

“Smart orphaned children have their own way of getting money, food, and bread in the streets. We had to be quick or we’d be snatched up and sent to the whorehouses or the slaver’s ships.” His lips tightened in a frown. “I was not quick enough.”

“I thought you recalled little of that time.” Agron’s voice was both soft and comforting; it held a true interest rather than an accusation.

“I was not about to confess my whole history to a stranger who wanted me dead a day before,” Nasir said. “I was convinced you had poison in that cup when you handed it to me.”

“Yet you took it,” Agron said.

“You seemed to have little care over who drank out of which one.” He smiled. “Besides which, you intrigued me. A day before you casually spoke of my death to my face; you mocked me for it. Then you approached with wine and smiles, still mocking my future death. The answer I gave you felt safer at the time.” He lowered his eyes. “I never truly apologized for the insult I made towards Duro that night.”

“You did in your own way,” Agron said. “You’ve always treated my memory of him with respect and never used it against me.” He stood behind Nasir and tentative fingers brushed over the scar at his side. “I cannot lose you,” he said in a soft, broken whisper. 

“Nor can I you,” Nasir said as he gripped Agron’s arms. “Yet with each day we march closer to death. I would not have this time clouded with fear. Only us, only us as we should be, that’s what I would have now.” 

Agron hesitated to reply to his words and Nasir closed his eyes in frustration. This past month it felt that while they both spoke in the same tongue, yet each word spoken and heard had completely different meanings. 

He’s spent the past three nights in a cold bed absent its other occupant. He would have this finished. 

“We both have fears, Agron,” he said as he turned around. “Do not let them destroy us. They hook into the darkest parts of our minds and hearts and would see us torn apart before Death has its chance. I have never doubted our love, trust, or respect and yet now, I fear one day I will turn to see your eyes clouded with hatred towards me.”

“That could never happen,” Agron swore.

“I once thought it an impossible thing to hear you speak to me as you did not even two days ago.” He gripped Agron’s chin. “I _understand_ your fears and your need to protect, but Agron _you must trust me_. You have to respect my ability to fight as a warrior. I cannot have you distracted on the field of battle wondering where I am and how I fare. I cannot have you waste valuable time when we do not risk life on petty concerns over a man who is nothing, but a possible companion. If Castus turns out to be a snake, then I will gladly take his life by my own hand, but do not condemn a man who now stands where I once did.”

“I cannot just stop my concern for you.”

Nasir smiled. No, he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. “Worry once the fight is over; know that we will always find each other, in this life or the next. Do not let all this fear take you further from my arms.”

Agron leaned his forehead down and Nasir reached up to make that connection. They shared each other’s breaths and Nasir could feel the pulse thrumming through Agron’s neck start to slow down and match Nasir’s own.

“I thought you fallen when I found you absent among the others in the city. I could not think properly. All I could see was your body, lying still, under that temple stone with gaping wound. I can still smell the air from when we found you. Brunt flesh and garments stale with sweat; it’s a thing that tears through my dreams some nights.”

“I know,” Nasir said. He gripped Agron’s face and found the lips waiting to meet his own. The kiss was gentle in a way they both had not been for months.

*******************

Dawn was nearly upon them and Nasir truly felt the weight of the day. He would do one last check on Laeta before crawling into his bedroll and the warm arms he anticipated waiting for him. Laeta’s skin did not burn which was a good sign. Nasir let out a sigh of relief. He did not know what was forming between her and Spartacus, but it was clear her health was of concern. Besides which, she could provide valuable information on Crassus and his camp. Perhaps she had even seen some of their numbers throughout the city. 

A small voice gasped from the entrance and Nasir turned.

“You may enter,” Nasir said as he saw Sibyl. “I saw the work you did with Gannicus’ hand. Perhaps you can retie the dressing around Laeta’s arm. My hands have grown tired this day; I appreciate Agron’s effort, but he is no healer.”

“It is something I learned from experience,” Sibyl admitted. “I’ve had to tend many wounds on my own.”

Remnants of blood still clung to her skin, though none looked to be of her own. “As have I,” Nasir admitted. “When you grow up as a slave, you know no other will seek to care for your wounds.”

Sibyl looked up in surprise. “You were a slave? You stand with the gladiators.”

Nasir laughed. “Only trained by them. My place is only so noticeable because of actions I made when first come to the rebellion and later, who I chose to give my heart to. Before that I was nothing but the body slave to a wealthy man.”

“ _You_ are the one who attempted to take Spartacus’ life,” she said. “I heard it talked about in the city, by those who speak often when wine loosens tongue.”

Nasir nodded. “Spartacus trained me himself as punishment.” He watched as Sibyl easily untied the bandage on Laeta’s arm. The mark looked less raw; perhaps Agron had some skill. “Those were strange times,” he murmured. 

“Yet you still stand,” Sibyl said. “The gods must be with you.”

Most would view Sibyl and her dedication to the gods as some sort of weakness. Nasir knew better; the intelligent slaves, the ones who got far on the merits of their own minds, were those with the patience to watch and listen. It reminded him of Chadara and that was enough to steal Nasir’s breath. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “You’ve had a trying day. You should rest.”

Sibyl turned back to Laeta and said nothing. She calmly ripped a scrap from her dress and dipped it into the bowl of water. She started to clean the make-up and dried salt from tears off Laeta’s face. 

“We have cloths for that,” Nasir said.

Sibyl shrugged. “I have my own ways.”

And for her own reasons, Nasir was sure. He would not bother to try and discern them this night. Nasir, like Chadara, like Mira, like all those who grew-up as slaves, had their own ways of coping with that life. They had to struggle to find their place with freedom. A new year was almost upon them and everywhere Nasir looked, he was seeing traces of their previous actions and lives.

It made it difficult to breathe in the musty air of the tent. 

“If she requires aid, seek me or Spartacus out,” Nasir said. He did not wait for her response. He made haste toward the stable. Nox was already at the fence as he approached. 

“Would you like to stretch your legs?” Nasir asked. He did not bother with a saddle as Nox lowered her neck.

What he’d never told Agron, for worry over his own concerns, was that Nasir had spent hours with those who _did_ know how to train horses. Spartacus had suggested it when they first acquired war horses, claiming Nasir had a good build for a rider. Agron had made his feelings well known on such an idea, and Nasir was busy training those to fight anyway, but now, with a horse he felt connected to, there would be discussion. He wouldn’t disregard Agron’s fears, but this horse would be with them regardless. 

“Is that wise?” Naevia asked as she eyed Nasir atop the horse. 

“I only go to the borders to check on any stragglers,” Nasir said. “I will be back soon if any should ask.”

It was much easier to breathe once he left the overwhelming press of tents, campfires, and people. Nox came to a slow trot and Nasir patted her neck in gratitude. The snow was lighter here, and perhaps there was grass or root for her to snack upon. He carefully dismounted, glad when his ankle didn’t roll, and kicked some snow loose to reveal grass patches. He smiled as she instantly nosed about and chewed. 

Nasir settled on a rock and stared out onto the ridge. He knew no one else would come, yet he couldn’t help but wish for a miracle. If Gannicus said Donar no longer walked in this world, Nasir would have to accept that as fact. He just did not know how to tell Agron the truth.

Nox raised her heard and quirked her ears. They would have a guest soon. “You must learn to tolerate him I fear,” Nasir said as she came to stand at Nasir’s side. “He comes with me in all things.” 

A heavy cloak fell over Nasir’s shoulders. He held his arm out for Agron to curl into his side. He kissed Agron’s forehead and smiled at the tired sigh.

“Naevia told you?” Nasir asked.

Agron shook his head. “I followed once I realized you weren’t coming to bed. I thought to find you asleep at Laeta’s side with ointment in hands. I did not expect the sight of seeing you so _familiar_ with riding a horse.” 

Nasir ran his hand through Agron’s hair and smiled as it stood on end. He styled it a bit more before answering the implied question.

“It was Spartacus’ idea and that’s all I say.”

“Fucking Syrians,” Agron muttered. 

“Donar has not returned,” Nasir said. It was the kindest way he knew to approach the subject.

Agron did not speak at first. He kissed Nasir’s temple before he answered. Nasir could feel the tears as they dripped from Agron’s lips to Nasir’s skin. “May the gods see him to a great afterlife.” Agron turned his head to rest in the crook of Nasir’s neck. “Perhaps Duro will greet him there.” 

A stranger would take the words and light tone as lacking true meaning. Nasir knew differently; he had heard Agron’s voice catch as Duro’s name flowed past his lips. It was one of the greatest honors Agron could bestow on anyone; the hope for Duro’s company. 

“Will you find me if we should fall?” Agron asked. 

Nasir tightened his hold in Agron’s hair. “I would like to see the gods of any Underworld stop me. I am a contrary Syrian slave boy who dared to participate in a rebellion against Rome; I believe that gives me a reputation.”

“Just shake your spear at them; they’ll adore you,” Agron agreed. He sat up and pulled Nasir closer to rest against his chest. He turned his head to the side. “All the times I anticipated this conversation, I did not picture the horse.”

“The horse stays,” Nasir said. Nox snorted in agreement.


	2. Part Two: Long Way Home 'verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before _Revered or Defamed and Decried_.

Nasir was beginning to despise night watches. Nothing happened; it was impossible to stay awake; he couldn’t help but wish for his warm tent and the company therein; and he was mostly bored. It made him yearn for the days of fighting with Lugo atop temple walls; now Lugo slept until it was time to relive Nasir. His sense of duty was the only thing keeping Nasir from dreams. A cool breeze rustled through the trees and he shivered; he should’ve snatched Agron’s new cloak before he left. 

There was the sound of clomping hooves in the dark. Nasir sprang up and got ready to attack. They had no riders out, but it could be someone new to their cause. His body tensed and he prepared for the fight. 

It was not to be.

A rider less horse emerged from the shadows, coming at Nasir fast as any lightning bolt. Fast reflexes kept him from getting trampled as he dived to the side. The horse cried and turned around. The air was filled with the sounds of its heavy breathing and Nasir was certain, in that moment, their racing heartbeats matched. 

Nasir could not see much in the thick of the night, but he sensed no others about. The only sounds he could hear were from the camp. The horse bore no saddle or bridle. Nasir couldn’t smell blood upon him, but there could be another sort of wound. The animal seemed frightened and Nasir knew he tread on dangerous ground. He carefully approached and laid a tentative hand on its neck, keeping his face within the horse’s sight. The flash of teeth made Nasir freeze and await a painful bite. He let out a sigh of relief when it never came. The horse did shake its head and Nasir got a face-full of horse spittle. It should’ve bothered him; sadly he’d grown used to Agron’s habit of spitting as he ranted. Nasir allowed his nose to twitch in displeasure yet kept his mouth shut. He carefully moved around to the other side and tried to feel for any injury. There was none he could find.

“You must be lost, friend,” Nasir lowly said. “It would be better if you returned from where you escaped. Here lies only the path to war.”

The horse shook its head again.

Nasir shrugged. “I did warn you,” he said. He slowly stepped away from it as he took up his spear and resumed his spot on the watch. The horse followed him and nudged Nasir so hard in the shoulder he almost fell. “I have no food,” Nasir said. “You really should go.” He patted its hind quarters to try and get it to move.

The damn thing laid down instead. 

“Fuck the gods,” Nasir muttered. He knew horses weren’t supposed to do that unless they felt safe. The stable masters that joined the rebellion had expressly said so.

Things like this only ever happened to Nasir. He sighed. “How am I going to explain this to Spartacus?” he asked. “I can just imagine Agron’s face when I tell him I brought us a horse. He’s terrified of your kind. I swear he must’ve been bitten as a child. He glares at Spartacus’ horse each time they have a meeting near the fence.”

Nasir turned back to watching the path. “I still say you should run while you still can.” It needed a name, his new companion. “I suppose Nox is fitting enough for you.”

The horse snored in response.

******************

“That is no beast. It’s a child of Lyssa, full of her rage,” one of the handlers yelled. Nasir ignored them as he perched on the wooden beams of the fence. He couldn’t blame Nox for refusing to submit to such grubby hands.

Nasir had woken to the feel of Agron’s laughter, buried under the blankets to quiet any outside sounds, as Crixus stood at the entrance to their tent and ranted about what Nasir had brought back to the camp. It had been a pleasant, slow start to the morning; a true luxury when each day brought more numbers and responsibilities. There were some days, between starting his morning at the healer’s tents to ending his night with training new recruits, that he had little time to think, much less relax. 

Nasir had been rewarded for taking a night watch with light duties the next day. With Naevia stuck training, Lugo helping dig trenches, and Agron off plotting with Spartacus, he had found himself traveling into the part of camp which held their riders. There were only a handful of those experienced enough to ride and fight at the same time. They did not have a true cavalry, but Rome didn’t expect them to have _any_ trained riders. It remained a secret weapon and strategy that Spartacus sought to develop. Horses were expensive though, and not all of those acquired were fit for war. Nasir had a feeling Nox would fare well, especially trained under the right hands. The fools were trying to force her and, as Nasir had clearly learned within seconds last night, there was no forcing such a mare.

“What brings such a smile to your face?” Agron asked. The cool metal of his phalerae and leather of his armor pressed into the bare skin of Nasir’s sun-warmed back. “Do you mock those who dare try to tame the creature you dragged into our lives?”

“She followed on her own will,” Nasir said. 

“She?” Agron asked.

Nasir nodded. “It’s a mare. Nox.”

Agron shook his head. “Did she come with such a name or did you choose it?”

“The gods chose it,” Nasir said. “She came to me in the night. There can be no other name.” He made a clicking sound with his mouth and Nox quickly pulled away from the trainers. She approached Nasir and flared her nostrils in greeting, before she let out a piercing neigh.

Nasir struggled not to laugh as he felt Agron tense and reach for his sword. Nasir patted the arm held tight around his waist. “Calm yourself.”

“They are dangerous creatures,” Agron said.

“So are boars and yet you have no problem skewering them,” Nasir teased. “Admit it, a horse bit you once.”

“More like tried to tear my head off,” Agron murmured. “Duro had poured a cup of mead over my head because I would not let him join the hunt. My uncle’s horse apparently had a taste for the drink.”

Nox reared her head again and sniffed. Nasir laughed before holding out the apple he’d swiped from the stores. She hesitated for only a moment before snatching it from his hand.

“See?” he asked as he waved his unharmed hand. “No harm done.”

“Yet,” Agron muttered. 

Nasir leaned back into Agron’s hold, letting him support their weight, and took the time to savor this increasingly rare moment. He couldn’t help the fear that settled in his belly as each new day seemed to be taunting the gods to strike them down. It wasn’t the type of fear that would still Nasir’s hands, but it was the type to torture his dreams with visions of Agron falling in the midst of a fight. Nasir closed his eyes and tried to banish the image; it was easy to do out here, with the sun warm upon his face, Agron at his back, and Nox chewing nosily on her treat. 

“That horse is yours now,” Agron said.

“Nox belongs to no one,” Nasir corrected. “She will be part of the rebellion if she so chooses. I do not claim ownership.”

Agron’s lips teased at Nasir’s ear. “Then perhaps she tries to claim ownership over _you_. I should prepare myself for this fight.”

Nasir laughed as he turned his head to meet Agron’s lips. “To the victor go the spoils,” he murmured as they shared each other’s breath.

*****************

Autumn was just starting to take a firm hold when Nasir found another creature in his life. They’d been doing well outside of their home in Damascus. Grief, the burden of memory, the struggle of the guilt of survival, all could strike them down on dark days. They tried to keep their hearts strong for the children and the new friends among them.

It’s not that Kyros or Tanith would mind seeing their expressions of grief; it was just that they’d all made a promise to begin the steps of healing. It was still difficult to speak of those they lost at times; as if it made it easier to hold their stories closer to their hearts. They still honored the ghosts of old friends with stories of their exploits, but it was not so easy to tell of the crinkle around Mira’s eyes whenever she smiled or the way Gannicus laughed when faced with an impossible task. 

They would never forget what they had done, who they had been, and who they had lost, but they starting to find the stones leading to a new life’s path. 

There were horses sold in Damascus for those who traveled. Some were for riding, others for pulling carts, and all for more money than Nasir was willing to spend. It would be _good_ for them to have a horse. The children would need to learn how to ride if they traveled by land. It would be difficult to transport any horse they bought by sea of course, but it _could_ be done. Kyros had said as much when Nasir asked the possibility and difficulties. Yet each time he made attempt to approach one of the merchants, something made him stop. 

It was easy to claim it was the price, or worry over proper housing or another mouth to feed. It was harder to admit that it felt like a betrayal to an old and loyal friend. Nox had found Nasir in the night and had died protecting him. He still missed her quiet companionship on the days when he desperately needed to ride out and be alone. 

The horses here did not look like Nox. Their necks were arched more, tails held high, and faces wide and shaped like wedges. They were taunting in ways other horses were skittish. They were more lively than stately, and the children loved to watch them when the merchants made them prance and perform. 

Even Nasir’s eye lingered that day.

“Right,” Donar said, “time for a family decision.” He held his hands out. “Everyone give me their coin purses.”

Everyone followed the command even as they exchanged looks of confusion. Donar took them before passing them to Kyros and Elissa. “Go get a decent price for one of those horses.”

“No,” Nasir protested. “We’ve just finished repairing the house. We cannot afford such an expense.”

Naevia held up a hand. “Agron, silence him,” she commanded. 

Nasir tried to glare at her, but his mind soon went hazy as Agron backed him into a corner alley. The bricks felt cool through the light fabric of his tunic, yet Agron’s skin felt warm under the weight of his cloak.

“We can’t,” Nasir tried to protest again, though he couldn’t quite recall what action he was speaking against.

“Donar and I stand guard,” Tanith said. Her voice was full of laughter as she added, “carry on.” 

Nasir’s will wavered completely as Agron’s tongue flattened and teased against the skin of Nasir’s neck. He struggled to remember any thoughts as Agron’s hands, both finally strong in grip again without any tremors, cradled Nasir’s hips. 

Donar coughed. “Agron, she said _silence_ , not _ravish_.”

“Ravish?” Tanith questioned. “You seek to better your language, Donar. This is an admirable trait.”

“I fear more what would happen if either one of them heard the word _fuck_ right now.”

Nasir would’ve thrown a stone at the treacherous bastard son of a goat if he could’ve reached it. Nasir playfully caught Agron’s tongue between this teeth; a sign that it was truly time to put such things aside until they were alone. Nasir didn’t have to open his eyes to know an attempt of a pout was on Agron’s face, but they were still in a city mostly unknown to them and there was no reason to tempt the wrath of the gods. 

“We have to help rebuild one of the merchant’s stables, but other than that we got a decent deal,” Kyros said. He shook his head at Agron and Nasir before turning to Elissa and patting her shoulder. “Elissa here won us the price.”

She nodded. “I heard one of the wealthier villagers speak of the horses yesterday. He said they were charging the price of purebreds for lower quality stock. You should’ve seen the merchant’s face when I told him so.” 

Tanith clapped her hands. “That is our Elissa.” She beckoned to Nasir. “Come; let us see to your new purchase.”

“ _Our_ ,” Nasir corrected, as they followed Kyros and Elissa. 

They went outside the city walls to one of the caravans and temporary camps. There were more horses there than the ones shown in the city. Nasir did not know how to choose; he had been the chosen last time. The merchant rambled off the various praises as any good salesman. Nasir’s friends, his _family_ , had gone through the trouble of giving him this gift. He needed to find one horse worthy of them all. 

It was then a horse nudged him in the shoulder. Nasir almost fell into the merchant as he tried to steady himself. He turned to find the curious gaze of a chestnut colored mare. She sniffed at this cloak and nosed at his arm. He laughed as he backed away.

“You must like apples as well,” Nasir said as he dug one out of the bag at his side. “I suppose you earned this for sheer gall.”

“Some say the horse chooses the rider,” Tanith said. Her braids teased over Nasir’s shoulder as her apprising gaze took in the mare. “I think you’ve been chosen.”

Nasir nodded. “It is an act I’m familiar with,” he said. He turned to the merchant. “This one.”

Agron’s grin was the first thing Nasir saw as he emerged from the merchant’s camp. “What shall you name this beast?” he asked.

Nasir patted the mare’s gracefully arched neck. “I think Aurora is best for her.”


End file.
